


Dried Cantaloupe

by LittleStarredSky



Series: Dried Fruit [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alpha Shane, Alpha Shane Madej, Alpha rut, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, Author has no idea what she is doing, Author is knee-deep in this motherfucker again, Big Dick Madej, Blow Jobs, Bottom Ryan Bergara, Canines i guess?, Co-Workers to Friends to Lovers, Co-workers, Developing Relationship, Dom Ryan, Dried Fruit, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Freeform, Friends to Lovers, Heat Sex, Hips, Inference of Mating Bites, Knotting, M/M, Male Slash, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Nesting, Nests, Nipple Play, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Ryan, Omega Ryan Bergara, Oops I got plot in my porn again, Pining, Pining Ryan Bergara, Pining Shane Madej, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Ryan Bergara, Queens, RPF, Rut, Rutting, Ryan Bergara Needs a Hug, Ryan Bergara is a Queen, Ryan Bergara's Hips, Ryan needs a confidence boost, Ryan-centric, Secret Angst, Secret Crush, Shane Madej Has Big Fangs, Shane Madej Has Big Hands, Shane Madej Has a Big Dick, Smut, Tags Are Hard, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Top Shane Madej, Topping from the Bottom, Why Did I Write This?, Why am I doing this?, fangs, lots of pining, lots of smirking, m/m - Freeform, part of a series, yeah smirking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleStarredSky/pseuds/LittleStarredSky
Summary: Ryan almost didn’t open the door to the office building. Fuck, Shane. He’d momentarily forgotten all about Shane-the-coworker after he’d spent the past two-ish days with Shane-the-sex-partner. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. How was he going to get through work today without passing out in embarrassment? Shane had seen him, squirming and wanting and hot and demanding—it’d be a miracle if Shane even spoke to him today. Ryan shut the door behind him, lost and anxious, when an irate voice broke him from his downward spiral.“Ryan Bergara, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: Dried Fruit [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1397068
Comments: 65
Kudos: 472





	Dried Cantaloupe

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Here's the latest installment! There are two people who are so involved in my writing and editing process that it would be criminal not to given them the recognition they deserve. ConsumedbyRain and BlondBoysBaby, you guys are awesome! 
> 
> Anyway, HERE HAVE SOME SEX AND ANGST!

Whoever said that this was going to be okay was wrong. Completely and totally wrong. And somehow, Ryan knew that. 

That’s why he was sitting in his disheveled nest, bawling his eyes out and eating ice cream, alone.

Ryan hadn’t made Shane stay for aftercare. In fact, he literally pushed Shane out the door once they’d eaten dinner despite Shane’s strangely concerned protests. A hormonal low inched its way through Ryan's body after he’d woken up, and having Shane around—especially when he helped make dinner and smelled all kinds of good—made it worse. Ryan couldn’t have acted normal if he tried. He stayed a little closer to Shane than would have been platonic, muffling a sigh every time the Alpha touched him. Shane probably noticed. Ryan half expected to be made fun of for it, but the Alpha continued talking about some weird sex cult that Ben Franklin was supposedly in. Like he'd never ranted to Ryan about that one before. Dinner was cooked and eaten, and Ryan melted. He was slowly separating from his body, and not in the fun, sexy, orgasmic way. It felt like he was being internally disassembled and ejected into empty space, an emotional turmoil rooted in being alone and lonely and without anyone to care for him. It was nothing but biochemicals, and no one really held post-heat feelings or behavior against Omegas anymore, but fuck it all if Ryan was going to let Shane see him that low. Sure, Shane had seen Ryan yell and swear and scream and hide and whimper and sob like a pup and lose his fucking mind over literally nothing, but this was different. Again, Ryan would be letting Shane in, and Shane didn’t really understand. Ryan had already crossed a boundary with the Alpha that had previously been wrapped in caution tape multiple times over, even put behind barbed wire and a moat. 

The heat sex—the purely physical satisfaction—Ryan could find a way to excuse and move on from. Emotional satisfaction remained off the table. 

So, Shane was shoved out the door and Ryan flatly said goodbye and goodnight. Twitching from growing levels of hormones, the Omega stressed over how to shut the door. Too fast and he’d only add to how rude he’d been so far. Too slow and he’d have to see Shane’s pained eyes. 

It ended up being a little too fast.

Now, here he lied, miserable and isolated, in a nest that still smelled of tea and trees, wondering why he was doomed to this pain and reminding himself that he was the only one to blame. Tears came of their own accord, and Ryan waited for it to pass. Briefly, he thought about calling Shane back and apologizing profusely before draping himself over the huge man and crying until he passed out. But Ryan could barely bring a spoon to his mouth, let alone force himself to move his whole body. Only by the Grace of God had Ryan remembered to take his post-heat pregnancy prevention meds. 

_Useless Queen. Can barely care for himself, let alone anyone else._

Ryan didn’t know where that voice came from, but another storm of tears fell without warning.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Ryan fiercely latched onto two things—it would be over soon, and Steven was going to fucking kill him when he found out Ryan refused aftercare. The thought of Steven, of familiarity and comfort and safety, made him relax. Maybe he could call him? Ryan knew Steven would drop everything to help him and vice versa, but Ryan still couldn’t bring himself to move. Besides, Steven probably had better things to do than help a distressed Queen. Pulling a blanket around his shivering legs, Ryan took another bite of ice cream. 

Fuck this. 

~

When Ryan’s eyes decided to open, the light coming in through his window pulsed red and orange—violent, raging, passionate colors that had Ryan wondering if he somehow woken up right before the end of the world. The bed wasn’t as messy as before, and, miraculously, the ice cream container sat upright on the nightstand. Ryan took a breath, expecting to feel another massive rush of sadness and self-loathing. Instead, there was nothing. Nothing except a little soreness, an odd sense of satisfaction, a hungry stomach, a slight tingle on his skin, and a bit of sweat on his forehead.

So, yeah. Nothing. 

After jumping in and out of the shower and quickly making some toast—with butter and jam, of course—Ryan went back to his bedroom to get dressed. But when he walked back through his door, the scent of tea and trees hit him so hard he almost fell over. He expected Shane’s potent pheromones to linger for a little while, but it seemed like Shane had been there literally six seconds ago and scented everything Ryan had ever owned. Ryan turned it over in his head in confusion, even as his body heated up from the obvious claim. In the brief time he’d been there, Shane had scented the absolute fuck out of Ryan’s bedroom, whether he’d meant to or not, for no fucking reason, and it was probably the reason Ryan didn’t feel like actual garbage right now. Ryan felt his breath get shorter, even as he relaxed. 

Ryan raced to his bedroom windows and opened them as wide as they could go, determined to clear out the smell. Sure, his hindbrain scowled at him in frustration, clearly wanting Ryan to keep the scent around, but Ryan was stronger than that. Probably. After getting dressed as fast as he could, Ryan gathered his work stuff and left. On the way to work, his brain assaulted him with flashes of what had happened less than 24 hours ago. Ryan grimaced, even as a pulse of heat went through him, and pushed those thoughts into the bowels of his head. There was no fucking way he was starting off his work week like this. Especially when he had so much to do and he had to face Shane at some point and—.

Fuck. He had to face Shane.

Ryan almost didn’t open the door to the office building. Fuck, Shane. He’d momentarily forgotten all about Shane-the-coworker after he’d spent the past two-ish days with Shane-the-sex-partner. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. How was he going to get through work today without passing out in embarrassment? Shane had seen him, squirming and wanting and hot and demanding—it’d be a miracle if Shane even spoke to him today. Ryan shut the door behind him, lost and anxious, when an irate voice broke him from his downward spiral. 

“Ryan Bergara, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ryan turned, resignation in his eyes and a fake smile on his face. “Oh, hello, Steven. How are you? I’m fine, thank you. Oh, my weekend? Nice, actually. Relaxing. No one barged in on me or came and checked on me without permission or fucked me into the couch or anything! I’m very well rested and can’t wait to have a productive day at work.” Ryan cocked his hip and crossed his arms. His anxiety effortlessly melted into annoyance and anger. Oh, this week was going to be fucking awesome. 

Steven’s scowl deepened. “Why are you here? You have one more day to—.” 

“Oh, please, Stef, save it,” Ryan growled. “I’ve been here for 15 seconds and you’re already giving me shit? For fucking up something I didn’t even really want in the first place?”

Steven’s eyes went both angry and pained, but his shoulders lowered. “Ryan, I couldn’t. I-I was worried, and I knew he’d help you, and I wouldn’t have been able to stay with you very long.” The soapy scent in the air went from sharp to watery. “I just... I didn’t want you by yourself.”

Ryan’s anger cooled to a simmer. He never could stay mad at Steven, especially when the Beta looked out for his well-being so fiercely. Steven would never intentionally hurt him—Ryan knew that with his whole soul—but still. 

“I know, but I didn’t ask you to tell him, remember? I was gonna be fi—.”

Steven rolled his eyes, scent souring. “Oh, don’t give me that, Ryan. Jesus Christ. Look, I love you, but we both know that you can barely keep yourself alive on normal days.”

“Pfft, what normal days?” 

“Shut up, you know what I mean. And look, here you are, a day before you’re supposed to be back instead of having proper aftercare.”

“Fucking hell, Steven, I’m fine.” Now it was Ryan’s turn to roll his eyes. The simmer returned to a boil. “And even more so, you fucking told him!”

Steven’s eyes hardened, then Ryan felt himself be pulled from the entrance down to some musty, abandoned hallway by the storage rooms. The Beta’s scent was sharp, but not sour, so Ryan couldn’t really decipher what Steven was doing. Steven whirled Ryan around to face him once they were far enough away from curious ears. 

“Listen to me, Bergara.” Steven’s voice shook, and Ryan’s shoulders slumped at the sound. “I didn’t know what else to do. You won’t let me help you anymore. Why not, I’ll never really get, but I do respect your decision. But you didn’t have anyone with you. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were just fucking alone while going through heat.” The soapy scent started to water down. 

“Steven—.”

“Listen. I could not just leave you alone.” Steven looked away, choosing his next words carefully. “If I went to see you, I knew that I would be physically unable to leave. And then you’d feel guilty, and I didn’t want you to isolate yourself from me because of that. I felt like I’d lose either way. Lose your trust by coming when you’ve told me not to, or lose your trust by telling your heat partner that you needed help.” Steven’s sad eyes narrowed. “And for the love of God, I still don’t get why that was such a horrible thing for me to do. Leaving you alone was simply not an option, Ryan.”

Ryan’s eyes softened. Gently, he placed a hand on Steven’s shoulder. Sure, the anger was still there because goddamnit, Ryan was not a fucking pup and why did nobody think he could take care of himself? But he would have done the same for Steven a hundred times over and then some, just to make sure that his best friend was safe. 

Ryan gave Steven a tiny smile. “Steven, thank you, but I am, as you can see, fine. I wouldn’t’ve died, and I’m not dead now. You really don’t need to worry about me so much.” 

Steven sighed—this was a battle he’d lost many times before. Ryan would seemingly kill himself before admitting he wasn’t okay or that he needed help. Years passed before Steven learned to drag Ryan’s true feelings out of him, and even still, the Beta could barely scratch the surface. Why he expected this would be different, he couldn’t say. Maybe because Shane was involved. Shane was the ultimate wildcard. Steven hoped that those two figured something out before he blew his head off. 

Steven shook his head and chuckled, adding this moment to the ever-growing list of Ryan being needlessly self-sacrificial.“You’re impossible, you know that?” Ryan mimicked Steven’s lopsided grin. 

“Bold of you to assume anything is possible,” he chuckled. 

Steven leaned forward, gave Ryan a quick, tight hug, then checked his watch before swearing at it. “We’ll need to talk about this later, okay? You’re not off the hook quite yet. I'll text you. Wanna get lunch?”

“Always. Noodles?” 

“Noodles. See ya at noon-ish.” 

“Love ya.”

With that, Ryan walked back to his desk, mind already whirling with things to do and how nice coffee would be. And one Alpha with the uncanny ability of turning his life upside-down. Ryan decided that he would stick at his desk today—if Shane wanted to avoid him, it would be easy. 

Ryan sat and arranged his things before heading for the coffee machine. But, when he opened the cabinets for a mug, one of his favorites—a blue #fuckShaniacs one that just appeared one day with no explanation—was missing. Ice went down his spine and his spidey senses started to tingle. Peeking around the corner, he scanned the area, keeping his eyes peeled for the resident man-giant. Whether he was doing it so he could avoid Shane for the rest of his life or demand his mug back, Ryan’d figure that out in a second. 

Ryan finally spotted him standing by Sara’s desk and laughing with her. And, just as Ryan’d suspected, wielding the mug. He doubted there was even a drink in it. Wouldn’t it be just like Shane to take his mug solely to fuck with him? It wouldn’t be the first time. Apparently, Shane hadn’t planned on staying on opposite sides of the office today. Baiting Ryan by taking his mug was probably Shane doing his best to break the ice, but Ryan couldn’t do that right now. His head was too muffled, his body still buzzing. 

However, Ryan still wanted his fucking mug.

_Now what?_ He debated. _To nab or to ignore._ Shane smiled particularly wide as Sara kept talking and giggling. Ryan sighed. 

_Better a different mug than lost dignity, I guess._

Ryan slipped back around the corner, picked another mug—black and plain—and filled it. Once he’d speed-walked back to his desk, he opened his computer and dove into the grind, hoping desperately that the pit in his stomach would eventually go away. 

~

Hours later, Ryan was knee-deep in the next Unsolved project. His desk became a collage of pictures, printed-out articles, and colorful sticky notes with the names and numbers of people to contact. He feverishly planned the next True Crime episode, and holy hell, this rabbit hole ran Mariana Trench levels of deep. Buried in notes and hungry for more theories, Ryan hardly noticed that the day was passing. Steven had pulled him away for one brief moment for the promised lunch date; otherwise, Ryan had been in researcher mode for hours. The light coming through the office windows ran together, staining the room rose and orange and gold. Only when the sun started shining right in Ryan’s eyes did he bother to look up and notice the passage of time. He slumped when he realized he’d have to get moving and try to get the mess on his desk figured out. Preparing to leave, Ryan started shuffling papers and attempted to organize his notes for the next day. Just as he turned to go, a tall, looming energy materialized behind him. Shrieking, Ryan jumped, only to be met with Shane’s smirking face. Great, just what I needed. The pit Ryan had ignored all day was suddenly inescapable. Steeling himself, Ryan frowned as Shane's smirk morphed into a chuckle. 

“Jesus Christ, Shane, have some mercy on a wimp,” Ryan gasped, dramatically pressing his hand to his racing heart.

Shane’s nose wrinkled as Ryan’s scent briefly soured from being startled but then leaned in a little closer. “So, work’s done for the day...” Shane trailed off.

Ryan sighed, already exasperated. “Yeah?” 

“And I don’t have to go home to anyone—.” Shane’s smirk deepened.

“I think you just roasted yourself, dude,” Ryan scoffed. 

“—so do you wanna get food?”

Ryan froze for a second, brows furrowed and mouth a thin line. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expected Shane to say, but that... That wasn’t it. Ryan thought that he and Shane were going to dance around each other for a little longer, Ryan stealing small glances at the Alpha and acting like he was just super busy. He expected Shane to be angry at being, for lack of a better word, kicked out of his apartment without preamble. Anxiously, Ryan turned over the request in his brain, but it didn’t really help much. This was Shane—what did Shane ever really mean when he said words? Ryan didn't. Shane leaned in a little closer, his scent surrounding Ryan and blurring his vision. Memories and images that Ryan had been trying to dissolve all day flashed behind his eyelids as he blinked.

_Fuck, this smell. What angry goddess cursed me like this?_

The silence stretched out a bit longer than was comfortable, and Shane tsk’d at him. “Oh, Jesus, Ryan. It’s not that difficult of a question.”

Ryan sputtered. “Sorry, sorry, I’m just, uh, y’know—.”

Shane rolled his eyes and adjusted his jacket. “Yeah, I know. So, to reiterate, food?”

“Sure, why not?” Ryan sighed. 

The Alpha’s eyebrows furrowed in fake confusion as Ryan made a show of accepting the offer. “You know, Ryan, most people are happy to be in my company.”

“Thank God I’m not most people.”

“I swear to God, Ryan,” Shane scoffed as he opened the door for him. “If most people were like you, I’d’ve died a long time ago.”

“Wait, you’re not already dead?”

“Shut up.”

Ryan tried and failed to hide his giggle. _This is normal. I can do normal. Right? Right._

Slowly but surely, the two made their way over to the food trucks, oblivious to the smile Steven gave them as they walked away. “Jesus, please help these idiots before I kill them both.”

_Be patient._

~

Ryan’s brain buzzed as he and Shane strolled to the food truck parking lot. Neither of them made a move to address what happened, and it didn’t seem like anyone was in a rush to do so. Unfortunately for Ryan, Shane hadn’t magically changed into a shy, evasive elf after Ryan’d kicked him out of the apartment. With his ridiculous yet biting wit and annoyingly chill scent, Shane forced Ryan to relax just by being near him. Too bad Ryan’s chill was fake, as always. Shane was acting as if nothing had happened—like Ryan hadn’t come all over his dick just days ago, like Shane hadn’t pinned him again his sink and kissed him breathless twice, like Ryan hadn’t exposed a deep, intimate part of himself to this Alpha. 

A part of Ryan breathed a massive sigh of relief. Another crumpled into itself, rejected and disillusioned. Ryan wanted to tell himself off. _Do you think that one single heat would be enough to tempt this Alpha? Shane Madej? The person who laughs when you scream at air? Yeah, right._

Shane continued rambling, and Ryan followed along just enough to stuff way-too-good mac’n’cheese into his mouth and still provide a clever quip every now and again.

For the life of him, Ryan couldn’t fucking figure out why he was so torn over this distinct lack of real communication. The mature, logical, sophisticated section of his brain wanted to talk about it just so they both could understand what had happened between them, move past it, and continue being best buds. The eight-year-old, “ew, Alphas have cooties” part never wanted to acknowledge that not-so-little blip in their friendship again. And Ryan’s hindbrain, of course, wanted nothing more than to drag Shane back to bed and unravel him one long limb and dorky smile at a time. Ryan shook those particular thoughts away as quickly as they manifested. No, no, no, not while I’m right in front of him. 

Shane paused for a second, squinting at Ryan as he heard his inner thoughts. “You okay up there, Ry?”

Ryan’s eyes widened as his head jerked up. “Yeah-yeah, I’m fine. Why d—?”

“I don’t know. Your scent was just kinda weird for a second.” 

Shane went back to eating, but Ryan felt his heart stop. 

_Should I even ask what that means?_

Carefully, Ryan wiped his face blank and kept eating, rerouting the conversation to his new True Crime rabbit hole, talking up until they were both done and strolling back to the office. 

“I still have way more notes to organize or whatever, and tomorrow I’m helping with some other shoots, but I’m actually working ahead for once in my goddamn life.” Ryan smiled, proud of himself and how he’d been a little on top of something. 

Shane smiled down at him, his eyes soft and amused, and it took Ryan off guard. Shane wasn’t soft, like, ever, and never had he ever looked at Ryan like he was some ray of sunshine. Ryan stumbled right over a sidewalk crack, and when Shane put a hand on his lower back to steady him, Ryan almost squeaked. Tingles rushed from the base of his neck down to his gut, and a rose-tinted, vivid flash of Shane pressing his thumbs into Ryan’s back while the Omega writhed went across Ryan’s eyes. 

Goddamnit. 

“Jesus, Ryan, do I gotta protect you from sidewalks now, too?” Laughter tickled the edges of Shane’s voice, but it rattled Ryan’s bones anyway. That voice, the way Shane growled the vowels out, the fact that Shane’s hand still rested on Ryan, even after he was solid on his feet—Ryan felt the pit in his stomach return. The Omega skittered away from Shane’s touch, hoping that distance would prevent the pit from widening. Instead, Ryan turned to see a blank-faced Shane and smelled air that was a little sourer than it had been a second earlier. 

Ryan wanted to slap himself. Fuck. Suddenly, the illusion that he and Shane would be able to float past their little sexcapade without a hitch shattered before his eyes. The friendship was muddled. Of fucking course it had been muddled. Shane had sex with Ryan, Ryan loved it more than he would ever admit to another living soul, and he would never be able to get past that. Before, Shane had been safe, unattainable as he was. Ryan could stifle everything—his lust, his desire, his devotion, his trust, his instincts—by reminding himself that Shane would never be more than a friend. But that was no longer possible. Regardless of the circumstances, heat contracts and nosey-ass Betas and desperation or not, Ryan’s hindbrain got what it wanted. A wonderful, sarcastic, ridiculous, beautiful asshole of an Alpha had deemed Ryan worthy. Now, his hindbrain wanted more. It wanted Shane on top of him and under him and around him and with him. It wanted Shane in his home, in his nest. It beamed at the prospect of having another person in Ryan’s circle who was trustworthy and supportive. Worst of all, it made Ryan hope. 

Exhaustion washed over Ryan. God, would he ever be done fighting these impossible battles?

Without even attempting to explain himself, Ryan turned and walked away. “See ya tomorrow, Shane.”

Ryan’s chest twinged when Shane’s voice sounded totally normal. “Toodles!”

If Ryan cried that night, no one was the wiser. 

~

The week passed uneventfully. Ryan and Shane recorded the next Unsolved, Ryan tried some weird foods on camera, and they both avoided the subject of “what happened last weekend.” Shane hadn’t asked Ryan to go get food again, but Ryan chalked it up to both of them being busy and/or awkward. Shane did manage, however, to nab the #fuckShaniacs mug every single morning that entire week, which both perplexed and irritated Ryan. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it meant. Either Shane was just being a characteristic shithead, or he was trying to say something without using his big boy words and expecting Ryan to get it. 

Either way, Ryan had no desire to grapple with it. 

He kept his head buried in his work and let all this weirdness fade into background noise. He even made headway on some other smaller projects that he’d previously shoved to the side in favor of being more relaxed at work. Now that being distracted meant remembering that whole clusterfuck, Ryan struggled with having an empty moment in his day. By the time Friday rolled around, Ryan had exhausted himself, and the “work hard, play hard” philosophy became more and more appealing as the day inched by. By lunchtime, Ryan concocted a fantastic plan: make a nest in his living room and only pause Netflix to go to the bathroom or sleep. He’d doze until noon, get delivery without guilt, and relish the comfort of warm blankets on a cool September day. He’d finally be able to not think about anything, Shane Madej included. The promise of a weekend of using exactly two brain cells pushed Ryan to ignore the ticking of the clock and keep going. 

Finally, finally, Ryan shoved his papers into his bag, grabbed his jacket, and made a beeline for the door, smiling to himself about how great this weekend was going to be. The second he got home, he swaddled himself in his softest sweatpants and t-shirt, clicked on his TV, and sank into his cushions. Ryan wouldn’t readily admit to anyone that he liked home remolding and improvement shows, but in his defense, no one ever asked. 

After a few hours and two pizzas, Ryan couldn’t have felt better. At least, until he checked his phone. 

He had two missed calls from Shane Madej. No fucking voicemails, though. 

Leave it. 

Ryan quickly dialed Shane’s number from memory but paused right before he pressed the call button. 

_Ryan Bergara, don’t you fucking dare._

_Ring. Ring. Click_. “Ryan?” 

“Yes, dickhead, who else would it be? Why did you call me? Twice?”

“What? Can’t Long Legs Madej catch up with his ol’ friend Night Night?”

At that moment, Ryan completely and fully regretted calling this massive dumbass. At least Shane’s scent couldn’t waft through the phone. “What do you want, Shane?” 

“Um, well, I was just wondering if, uh—.” Ryan’s eyebrows knit together. Nervous had never been a word he’d use to describe Shane, but his voice shook so much that Ryan’s heart sped up. 

“Yeah, Shane?” Ryan asked, chest tight. 

“Want to come over? I just got a new six-pack and I’m sure there’s some movie we could watch on Netflix.”

Silence held its grip on Ryan’s voice. What? What? Shane called him just to ask if they could hang out? To nervously ask if they could hang out? 

Okay, Ryan was admittedly making too big a deal out of this. Chilling together on weekends—drinking a beer and watching a movie—was hardly out of the ordinary. But then again, that was before this massive shitstorm. Yet, somehow, Ryan saw this for what it was: a grasp at something normal, just like Shane asking him to get food from the food trucks. Still, Ryan feverishly debated whether or not he should say “yes” to this peace offering. 

Who do you think you are? Do you still think this could all just disappear? That you'd suddenly be unable to see Shane’s dick beneath his sweatpants? You’d been an absolute fucking idiot if you think you’ll be able to hold off from touching—.

“Sure, Shane. I’ll be over in a bit.”

_Good luck, Bergara._

~

Standing right outside Shane’s apartment door, Ryan steeled himself. Normal, he could do normal. If they were going to pretend that nothing happened, then Ryan wasn’t going to do it in half measures. Still, his stomach lurched. Why was he here? Hadn’t he just given up and admitted that this whole thing was twisted beyond restoration? 

But if last weekend hadn’t happened, Ryan would have happily come over to Shane’s house. Honestly, he probably would’ve just sent Shane a surprise text saying “surprise, bitch” before crashing in.

Even as his hands shook, Ryan knocked on the door. Footsteps padded across carpet, and when the door opened, Ryan’s eyes met Shane’s soft smile. Ryan’s own mouth gave a lopsided grin, his gaze wandering all over Shane’s body as he leaned against the doorframe. The Alpha's legs were wrapped in a pair of heather-gray sweats that clung to him in some mouth-watering ways, and Ryan held down a tiny scent-spike as best he could. When his eyes traced their way back up, his pupils expanded. Shane’s shirt was red. Temptation red. Red like lipstick at a cocktail party, red like the last sip of good wine, red like late-autumn Vermont. The shirt had definitely seen better days—it stretched tautly across Shane’s shoulders and was covered in pills, giving away its age, but all that meant was that it would be softer than cashmere and light as air. Ryan wanted to grab its collar and pull Shane down and kiss him. He wanted to rub his face in it. He wanted to wear it. One day, he would question why Shane in red was such a fucking turn on for him, but right now he needed to focus on getting through tonight without combusting. 

“I’m assuming you’d like to come in?” Shane’s voice shook Ryan from his lusty thoughts, and Ryan tried to laugh it off as best he could.

“Yeah, dude, come on. You promised a six-pack, and I intend to be at least moderately tipsy before midnight.” Ryan slipped past Shane and beelined to the fridge, hoping that something cold would distract him. A pup’s mistake, to be sure. 

Shane’s scent was everywhere. Of course, Ryan had been in Shane’s apartment—at this point, Ryan knew which drawer the scissors were in and that Shane’s dryer only worked if you banged it first—but Shane must’ve freshly scented the place or some shit because Ryan could taste black tea and pine needles on the back of his throat, no matter where he stood. It reminded Ryan of walking into the boys' locker room in high school—different, overpowering scents strong enough to give him a headache, all with a dose of scent-neutralizing Axe Body Spray. Hardly a pleasant memory. But Shane’s scent didn’t make him plug his nose and wish for fresh air. It gave him pleasurable chills. Being surrounded by Shane made his skin warm, and when Shane reached past him to get a beer of his own, Ryan nearly jumped.

Movie. He was here for a movie, right? 

Ryan walked toward the small living room where Shane’s overstuffed navy couch and modest TV set up was, just waiting to be used. He sat, grabbed a blanket, and took a long swig of his beer before sighing dramatically. Shane came over, bottle in hand, and leaned in the doorway, watching Ryan with a gaze that made the Omega pull the blankets around himself a little tighter. 

“Well, are we gonna watch something? Or are you just gonna hover there like the demon you are?”

Shane chuckled and rolled his eyes, and the strange energy in the room dissipated. “Jesus, Ryan. If we’re going to make wild accusations like that, I might have to ask you to leave.”

“Dude, I know for a fact you have salt in your kitchen. If anyone was going to leave, it’d be you.” Ryan’s easy smile was only partially fake.

Shane plopped down on the couch and grumbled. “Alright, alright. But then you'd have no one to protect you when real ghosts decide to pinch your ass or something.” Shane’s eyes crinkled even as he tried to keep his face flat.

Ah, back to banter. 

Several minutes passed as Ryan and Shane threatened each other with more and more obscure hellish punishments. Finally, sides aching from laughing, Ryan grabbed the remote and picked something that paired well with kinda-cold beer, a history buff, and theory-munching scaredy-cat. 

Shane guffawed at his choice. “‘ _Sherlock Holmes_?’ Really? I can already tell that this is going to be fantastic.”

Ryan jabbed him in his side, even as Shane bent his body to escape. “Shut up. It’s actually kinda good. Plus RDJ and Jude Law are good actors as well as pretty faces.” 

“You’re garbage.”

“Yeah, well, you’re hot garbage.”

“Oh?” Shane’s eyes darkened, and Ryan felt goosebumps rise on his arms. The Alpha leaned in just close enough to see the blink-and-you-miss-it blush on Ryan’s cheeks. “You think I’m hot?”

Ryan scrunched his nose. “Did you happen to miss the ‘garbage’ part? Should I repeat myself? Maybe you’d like me to turn the subtitles on, too, deaf bastard.” _And yes, yes I fucking do. Especially when you are this close and smell this good. And in that shirt._

“Ryan, you wound me,” Shane sighed, clutching at his heart. 

The Omega snorted but didn’t respond, turning his full attention to the film. Normal, totally normal. Shane took the hint and leaned into the cushions, ready to teeter on the edge of bored for the next two hours. 

~

45 minutes in, no one had exploded or otherwise gone insane. Shane even laughed at the dialogue once in a while. The alcohol had relaxed Ryan, and he felt calm for the first time in forever. Despite Ryan’s attempts at staying normal and plutonic and no-I’m-totally-not-into-you with Shane, something unnameable kept tempting him to push the boundaries just a little. Now that he knew Shane’s touch, resisting proved difficult. God, and that red shirt. When Ryan shifted to crack his back and ending up leaning onto Shane’s side, neither protested or moved. When Shane’s arm slid from the back of the couch, inched behind Ryan’s head, rested across Ryan’s shoulders, no one commented. When Ryan flinched and his feet brushed against Shane’s outer thigh, no one reoriented themselves. Ryan felt fine, good even. Shane’s warmth loosened his muscles, and Ryan's exhaustion slowly seeped into his bones. He finished his beer and moved to get another, but Shane was faster, quickly returning with two fresh bottles. 

“Thanks,” Ryan mumbled. 

Shane only hum’d in response. 

Shane’s movement would have been the perfect opportunity for them to separate, pretend like they weren't cuddling seconds ago, perfectly encapsulate the idea of we’re-just-best-bros. But Shane sat closer to Ryan than before, pressing himself completely against the Omega’s side. The two’s bodies touched from shoulder to knee. Ryan shivered, feeling Shane’s eyes shift to look at his face, and held down another scent spike. Thank God for scent blockers. Ryan felt Shane re-situate his arm across Ryan's shoulders, and a strange settling went through Ryan’s body. Feeling Shane’s weight, his presence, centered Ryan, like he could think straight for the first time in eons. It also reminded him of when Shane was writhing beneath him just days ago. Before he could shake the emotion, it unwound itself and rested in his spine, etching itself into his psyche. His smug hindbrain smiled. 

_Told you._

Ryan closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts—it wasn’t helpful right now. He'd ignore it. Normal, remember? They were doing normal. 

Shane’s arm lifted, his bicep brushing against the hair on the back of Ryan’s head, and Ryan immediately missed it. He nearly sighed, but was cut short when that arm slid under the blanket and curled around his lower back. A warm palm rested on his hip, and Ryan swallowed to keep down a squeak. The scent of black tea and forest thickened in the room. Not heady, not lusty, just calm, relaxed, peaceful. Like no expectations. The pheromones reminded Ryan of all the other times they’d hung out together—just them and a movie or a video game or a silly ghost documentary or because Ryan needed a place to read when he was melancholic and didn’t want to be alone in his apartment. With Shane’s warmth seeping into his skin, Ryan could’ve fallen asleep. Sure, Shane’s scent wasn’t normally this thick, and sure, they normally didn’t cuddle each other, but…

_“But” what, Ryan? But it’s not like Shane’s attracted you? But it’s not like this means anything? But it’s not like you’re leading him on by being a dumb—._

“Wanna watch the next one?” Shane interrupted Ryan’s intrusive thoughts, looking pointedly at the credits rolling down the screen. 

Ryan gawped. “So, wait, are you saying you might’ve actually liked it? So much that you want to watch the next movie?”

“No, not even close, you dwarf,” Shane scoffed dramatically.

Ryan turned his body towards the Alpha, a mischievous smirk smeared across his face. A smile quirked at the corners of Shane’s mouth. “You totally liked it.”

Shane crossed his arms and pouted. “I did not, you fucking wimp! I just made the best of a bad situation.”

“Holy shit, you really did enjoy yourself. Someone call the presses! Shane Madej Sees Spectacular Sherlock Spectacle, is Stunned and Shocked by its Superiority.”

“You little shit!” 

And with that, Shane leaned forward and shoved Ryan, nearly pushing him off the couch to the floor. 

Ryan’s eyes widened at the obvious challenge to his dignity and integrity. “Do you really wanna do this?”

“Come at me, scaredy-cat,” Shane rumbled, balling his fists and bouncing like a video game character. 

Ryan also put his hands up in his own cheesy video-game-fighter pose. “I’ll have you know, I wrestled in high school.” He fought to keep his smile from showing. 

“Well, I’m taller, Shortstack,” Shane said triumphantly. But before he could really finish, Ryan pounced. 

_Thank God Shane doesn’t have a coffee table in here,_ Ryan thought as he and Shane rolled off the couch, flipping and tugging and play-growling at each other until they were both panting. As much as it bruised Ryan’s ego, Shane ended up on top of him, huge hands wrapped tightly around both of Ryan’s wrists, knees on either side of Ryan’s thighs. My coach would be disappointed. Ryan fought to get his legs out from under the Alpha, but his wrists were still restrained. 

Ryan rolled his eyes as Shane laughed breathlessly. “See? Average tall beats angry small every time.”

“You’re a dick,” Ryan panted out. 

While he tried to catch his breath, Ryan noticed that the air gained a headiness that hadn’t been there previously—the same tea-and-tree scent, but muskier. He could taste it on the back of his throat. It settled on his skin, set him on fire. 

Before Ryan could really put the pieces together, Shane kissed him. 

And that, Ryan was not ready for. The delicate touch, the fingers tracing up his arms, his own soft groan—it all left Ryan mystified. It vanished almost as fast as it appeared. When the soft pressure evaporated, Ryan blinked and saw Shane staring at him. The Alpha’s eyes traveled all over Ryan’s stunned face, searching for a reaction. Ryan’s heart skipped when he saw how blown Shane’s pupils were from that brief kiss. Oh, boy. Cautiously, giving Ryan plenty of time to protest, Shane leaned in again, slower and with more purpose, holding Ryan’s chin and tracing his bottom lip with a rough thumb. When their lips met, Ryan gently sighed, and Shane pressed a little deeper. No fear rose up his throat, no panic tightened his chest. The only feeling Ryan could identify was satisfaction. As the larger man shifted against him, Ryan felt his already shaky resolve crumble as his eyes slipped completely closed. Little chips of control continued to flake off as Shane rested his whole body against Ryan’s. The weight felt wonderful, and Ryan’s hindbrain preened as he fell deeper under Shane's intense kiss. Temptingly, Shane tugged and licked Ryan's lower lip, releasing a familiar low, purr-like growl that had Ryan trembling. 

Timidly, Ryan ran his fingers through Shane's hair, feeling the Alpha shudder and the air get heavier. Ryan let his lips part slightly, and Shane immediately took advantage. He whined as Shane traced his tongue and kissed him harder. The Alpha dragged his fingertips down Ryan’s sides, relishing how the muscles twitched beneath his fingers and how Ryan whined. Encouraged, Shane curled his tongue, stroking the inside of the Omega's mouth, and Ryan practically whimpered. Without breaking the kiss, Shane wound his arms around Ryan’s lower back and tugged him up. He placed Ryan on his lap, hugging him close and barely giving the kiss-drunk Omega a moment to breathe before going back in for more. 

Ryan took a breath through his nose and was instantaneously overwhelmed with the deep, rich, cloying pheromones of a very aroused Alpha. It should have been a warning to slow down, but to Ryan's primal brain-functions, it was a promise. 

When Ryan placed his hands on Shane’s shoulders and pushed, asking for air, Shane merely redirected. He detached from the Omega's reddened mouth and dove for his neck, his tongue tracing down before kissing his way back up. Shane noticed that Ryan’s ears were red, too, and he licked the outer shell before sucking on Ryan’s lobe. The corners of his mouth curled up with he felt Ryan shiver.

Slowly, Shane rubbed a hand down Ryan’s spine, slipped his fingers under the hem of Omega’s shirt, and caressed bare skin. With that one touch, Ryan’s scent spiked, and Shane sighed as the room filled with the smell of sexy dough. God, he would never get enough of Ryan’s pheromones. No other scent had ever affected him like this, and to have Ryan squirming and sighing and twitching on his lap was surreal. 

_This Omega is going to kill me._

Ryan shivered when Shane’s fingertips danced on his lower back. Clearly, the Alpha hadn’t forgotten about some of his sensitive spots. Ryan couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.

_More_.

Without a second thought, Ryan slid his hands up Shane’s arms and under his sleeves, spreading his fingers out across the Alpha's shoulders. Ryan had been right about Shane’s shirt—it was softer than a cloud and just as light, well-loved and well-worn. Shane hum’d appreciatively, and Ryan stroked the soft skin while Shane continued kissing his breath away. Shane’s thumbs traveled up and slotted themselves in the divots where Ryan’s ribs rested beneath his skin, and when Ryan giggled, they went a little farther south. 

Much like the kiss, Ryan wasn’t expecting Shane to outright grab his ass, but surprise was only part of the reason why he moaned. 

The Omega’s whole body erupted with tingles, and Ryan didn’t even stop to consider where this was going before grinding down into Shane’s lap and pulling the Alpha’s hair. Purr-growling into Ryan’s mouth, Shane tugged him forward, their bodies flush. Ryan whimpered, clutching Shane’s shoulders, and the Alpha’s scent billowed out and filled the living room. Every time Ryan inhaled, black tea and cedar and fog and cotton flannel and blue calmness stuck to the roof of his mouth and coated his throat. Nothing had ever tasted better. And Ryan was hungry. 

Shane’s hands massaged and stroked over Ryan’s underwear, but when his fingers brushed dangerously close to Ryan’s hole, Ryan suddenly realized how wet he was. His slick had completely soaked through his boxers and was working on a wet spot on his sweats. A spike of logic pierced his brain, even as Shane sucked on his bottom lip and massaged a little harder. 

_Isn’t this the exact fucking thing that you swore you wouldn’t do, Bergara? What the fuck are you thinking?_

Ryan’s mind was briefly wiped quiet when Shane simultaneously ground himself into Ryan, spread one of his hands across Ryan’s lower back, slipped his fingers beneath Ryan’s waistband to press directly against his dripping hole, and bit Ryan’s Adam’s apple. Completely aroused and slowly melting, Ryan threw his head back and moaned into the pheromone-heavy air. 

“Uhn, Shane! Holy shi—ah!” Ryan’s lungs heaved as his body spasmed. 

Shane growled, hot and protective, and Ryan felt it reverberate in his bones. A feral smile painted itself across Shane’s mouth. “Doin’ alright up there, Ry?”

“Fu-fuck you, Sha—mmph!” Ryan tried to struggle out some words, but there was no way when Shane kept grinding. 

Shane captured his lips again, and Ryan’s eyes rolled back into his head. He couldn’t take this. He was so hot, so on edge. 

_Do something, Shane!_

Shane pressed the tip of his finger into Ryan’s ass, and Ryan screamed into Shane’s mouth before feeling his body throb. His skin burst with pheromones as his orgasm rippled through him, and Shane slowly rubbed against the Omega’s inner walls, drawing the pleasure out and making Ryan writhe. Throwing his head back, Ryan panted, and Shane pressed his mouth against Ryan’s neck, mumbling something that Ryan couldn’t quite piece together. His legs twitched, slowly tightening around Shane’s hips and pulling the pair even closer together. Ryan’s hindbrain smiled. 

As the waves died down, Ryan ran his fingers through Shane’s hair, some weird instincts telling him to comfort the Alpha, and Shane pulled his mouth away. That godforsaken smirk reappeared on Shane’s face, and he chuckled as Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. 

“Has anyone told you that you’re an absolute shithead?” Ryan scathed.

“No one recently, why?” The smirk deepened. 

“I hate you.”

Shane kissed Ryan again—just a light brush of his lips, just like he had before kissing Ryan into next Tuesday. “You love it.” Shane wasn’t expecting Ryan to turn red and sputter, but it was better than any other reaction he could have imagined. “Wow, Ryan. I mean, typically you’re a stumbling mess anyway, but damn.”

Ryan tried to squirm away, suddenly embarrassed and unwilling to be teased. “Fuck off, Shane.”

Shane just pulled him close and kissed him deeper, turning Ryan to jelly in a couple of seconds. “Anytime, Shortstack. Do you still want to watch the second one?”

Shane’s eyes darkened a little. “Maybe after you’ve changed your boxers?"

Still red, but unable to come up with a decent rebuttal, Ryan nodded. What could it hurt?

_Ryan’s hindbrain sighed. When are you going to admit it, Ryan Bergara? What is it going to take?_

~

The second Sherlock Holmes movie was just as okay as the first. When it ended, Ryan somehow excused his way out of spending the night. He didn’t know if he could take waking up in the morning and seeing Shane, probably shirtless and definitely with bedhead, making breakfast like he had during Ryan’s heat. No fucking way. He said bye to Shane without much drama, but he one-hundred percent had a major panic attack on the way home. Here he was, leaving Shane’s house in Shane’s boxers with Shane’s scent on his skin.

What the fuck was he doing?

Ryan got to his apartment and slammed his door shut—fuck the neighbors—and threw himself onto his bed. He literally could not breathe. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the feeling of the walls closing in on him. What was he doing? He couldn’t believe that he had let himself be so stupid and be tempted and let Shane touch him and let himself be touched and be held by Shane and kissed by Shane and even though it felt so good this was so so so bad and this could fuck up his whole life and how could he have let this happen this was exactly what he told himself not to do what the hell was Shane thinking and what about him being a fucking Queen and—.

Ryan turned onto his back, put a hand over his erupting heart, and tried his best to slowly breathe. 

_This can’t happen again_ , Ryan told himself over and over again. _It will be okay, but you can’t do this again._

His hindbrain laughed so loud that Ryan almost flinched. 

_Yeah, right._

~

Upon waking up Sunday morning, Ryan had another quick panic attack before his morning coffee, which set the tone for the entire day. Ryan wanted to believe that he could walk back into work the next day and everything would be peachy and wonderful and not-at-all-awkward, but he was not as stupid as he looked. Despite this, Ryan forced himself to relax and spent the majority of the day watching cartoons. He even managed to laugh a few times. He left the house a single time, and it was to take a short walk over to the nearby boba place to treat himself. It had been a long, long time since he’d had boba, and he figured that if the rest of his life was going to be shit, the least he could do for himself was get a fucking boba. Once he was back home, he put a clean pair of sweatpants on, made some mac’n’cheese, and turned on HGTV. 

He sank down into the couch cushions, ready to get comfortable, but something familiar tingled at his nose. Chai? Yes, but a little darker. Bark? Not quite, maybe more forest-y and rich than that? Warmth? Yes. Ryan’s eyes widened. Black tea and cedar. 

Shane’s scent was still on his couch. 

Ryan sighed. _Fucking why?_

He really tried his best to ignore it, but it slowly and cruelly wafted up to his nose and lodged itself in his brain. Ryan felt his skin heat to a simmer and was almost immediately repulsed by himself. Hadn’t he just sworn that he wasn’t doing this anymore? His body very pointedly ignored him. Even as he tried to force the images of last night and last weekend out of his brain, Ryan’s thighs tingled. But then his hindbrain supplied the delicious image of Shane writhing as Ryan rode him, and the Queen felt a rush of heat so intense that he had his hands in his pants before he knew what he was doing. It only took a couple of strokes before Ryan spilled into his palm, dirtying his fresh sweatpants, and he mentally smacked himself. 

“Fuck, I am so screwed.” 

As Ryan stood to get cleaned up, he avoided looking at the photos glaring at him from the banister. 

~

It was Monday morning, again. And Ryan had to face the music. Again. 

Ryan rubbed a hand over his face. _Fuck this._

On top of this whole mess, the new True Crime episodes were supposed to be uploaded soon, which meant a lot of long nights ahead. Ryan shivered. The mornings felt chillier now.

The office was a little quieter than usual—fewer people were milling about it seemed. He set his bag and jacket at his desk, then turned and made a beeline for mug cabinet. The #fuckShaniacs mug was there. The Omega smiled—today was probably going to be a little better than he thought. After grabbing his mug, Ryan glanced around, looking for some reasonably familiar face. Then, Steven and Andrew appeared by the coffeemaker. He smiled and went over to say hi, making small talk with them as he brewed a cup. Ryan relaxed—yeah, today was not going to kill him. Sure, Steven’s smile was a bit too knowing, and Andrew’s eyes were a bit too amused, but everything could be overlooked in the name of having a half-decent day. 

Back at his desk, Ryan continued editing, typing, cutting, clipping, and rewatching the footage. Powerpoint slides, my ass. The office stayed quiet, but as the hours ticked by, something kept itching at the back of Ryan’s neck. 

Shane. Shane wasn’t there. Where was he?

Suddenly, it was lunchtime, and Ryan’s puzzlement turned into anxiety. Where was Shane? Was something wrong? Did something happen?

Ryan pulled out his phone. As if the universe had been listening to him for once, there was a text from Shane. 

_Shane (tall dickhead): Working from home today. Sick. Send me stuff._

_Ryan took his first deep breath of the day._

_Ryan: Stuff like what_

_Shane (tall dickhead): Final cuts_

_Shane (tall dickhead): cat videos_

_Shane (tall dickhead): memes_

_Shane (tall dickhead): but mostly just the final cuts_

_Ryan: comin right up dude_

Ryan spent the rest of the day playing email tag with Shane, finishing the last little bits before sending them off the TJ and Mark for final look-overs. When Ryan finally shut his computer and starting packing his stuff, he had already decided that he was not making his own dinner tonight. He was too tired and he didn’t want to sit alone in his apartment for any longer than necessary. His fingers itched to grab his phone and ask Shane if he wanted to come—Shane was never too sick to turn down a meal—but Ryan could barely think Shane’s name anymore without having those same vivid flashes paint themselves across his eyelids. Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose. Friends, he and Shane were friends. Friends totally brought each other warm food when they weren’t feeling well. Just gals being pals. Yeah. Right.

_Ryan: grabbing dinner want anything_

_Shane (tall dickhead): where you going?_

_Ryan: french and Vietnamese place on culver_

_Shane (tall dickhead): pan fried noodles with beef, please?_

_Ryan: kk_

Ryan knocked on Shane’s door 30 minutes later, takeout in hand. He shifted uncomfortably, still not quite ready to face the Alpha. But, if he wanted any grasp at normalcy or the friendship that had existed before, he had to be Shane’s friend first. 

Yeah, right. Friends, indeed. 

Silence was all that answered, and the Omega’s heartbeat sped up. He raised his fist again, but never got the chance to knock. The door opened considerably slower than Ryan was used to, and the person on the other side was nearly unidentifiable. 

Ryan’s eyes widened as he took in Shane’s figure. He had on his loosest sweatpants and a dark blue teeshirt that smelled like it hadn’t been washed in a while. The Alpha’s hunched back and chaotic hair showed that he was unwell, but what did Ryan in was the flushed face and muddled scent. Shane huffed and it sounded wet. Ryan heard the faint whirring of a humidifier somewhere in the living room. A deep urge to care and coddle and claim pierced Ryan’s heart, and he didn’t immediately shove it down. 

“Shit, Shane. Why didn’t you tell me?” Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed and he put his palm against Shane’s forehead. Shane’s eyes fluttered closed, relishing Ryan’s cool palm. “Jesus, you definitely have a fever. Go sit.” The Omega let himself in and led Shane to the couch—judging by the mound of blankets, laptop charger, and used mugs, Shane had barely moved from that spot all day. Ryan felt himself go soft—all the weirdness was momentarily forgotten, and he turned his focus to making sure that this dumbass Alpha was taken care of. Even if it was just for tonight. He picked a few of the softest blankets, bundled Shane, then threw the rest into the washer. He turned on the kettle, put the lukewarm takeout into the microwave, washed the abandoned mugs, made a fresh cup of mint tea, grabbed the Ibuprofen, put Shane’s takeout into a bowl, and sat on the couch. 

Ryan held the bowl out to Shane, waiting for the Alpha to take it from him. Shane looked at it, looked at Ryan, then opened his mouth and pointed at it. 

Ryan grimaced. “Shane, come on.”

Shane responded by making puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m not feeding you, knothead.”

And then Shane whined. Ryan nearly dropped the bowl—he’d never heard Shane, or any Alpha for that matter, make that kind of noise. It hit some deep-seated desire in Ryan’s hindbrain, and the urge to soothe pulsed through him with such strength that he nearly dropped the bowl. The Queen looked into Shane’s eyes for just a second, then took a deep breath. 

_I can’t believe I’m doing this._

“If you mention this to anyone, I will personally lock you in the Ohio State Penitentiary.”

Shane smirked at him. “No balls, you won’t.”

Ryan bit his lip before shoving a mouthful of noodles toward Shane. “Just fucking eat it.”

Ryan decidedly did not watch Shane’s lips wrap around the chopsticks. 

The bowl slowly emptied as Shane thoughtfully chewed each bite. Ryan may not have watched Shane’s mouth close around the noodles, but he did watch Shane’s Adam’s apple bounce he swallowed. Ryan itched to put his mouth on it, but that urge was overpowered by the instinct to keeping Shane comfortable and fed. Ryan honestly couldn’t remember ever caring for another adult like this. Sure, he had nephews and younger cousins to whom he’d given softer, caring, thoughtful attention, but this was Shane. Why was it always Shane that clinked up the whole system? Once there was no more food left, Ryan put the dish in the sink and warmed up his own meal. After pulling two glasses with water, he sat back on the couch and pulled up Netflix, eager to fill the silence. Ryan wanted something mindless, something he could turn on and then put his brain on autopilot. He itched to watch some cheesy home improvement show, but Lord knows what Shane would say about that. Ryan looked over at Shane, and the bastard was practically asleep. Ryan grinned. Maybe he could be a little self-indulgent if he was going to sit here and watch Shane snore. 

A few hours later, Ryan was full, warm, and mostly asleep himself, but something was keeping him from falling over the precipice. The air had gotten… heavier? Warmer? Cozier? Denser? Whatever it was, it held Ryan aloft and let him float atop the ocean of deep sleep. Frustrated, Ryan blinked and sat up, perplexed and bleary-eyed. He looked around the room for a non-existent answer, then turned his eyes to Shane. Instantly, Ryan realized. 

Shane. It was Shane’s scent. No longer muddled and subtle, it inched into every corner of the room, hanging in the air like a heavy translucent curtain. Ryan took a slightly-deeper-than-normal-breath and nearly sighed. Every element of the scent was layered and warm—not only black tea, but black tea with milk and sugar; not only cedar, but Incense Cedar being burned; not only wet woods, but moss-covered bark and pine needle carpets. 

Arousal ripped through Ryan's body, and he shook. 

_No fucking way. We’re not doing that again. The guy’s sick! Jesus Christ._

Ryan was stunned. This wasn’t supposed to happen—where the fuck did this come from? Why the fuck was Shane making pheromones like he was trying to mark territory? 

Suddenly, Ryan began to smell himself in the air, and panic replaced confusion. He needed to go now. He moved to wiggle his way off the couch, jostling the Alpha leaning against his legs. Ryan wasn’t particularly concerned that he’d wake Shane—Shane could’ve slept through World War III—so he didn’t expect to feel a hand grab his ankle or to hear a familiar purr-growl echo in his ears. He looked over at Shane and was met blazing brown eyes. Ryan froze as another wave of realized crashed into him. 

Shane was in rut. 

Ryan scooted back in an attempt to create distance, but Shane tightened his hold and pulled, drawing Ryan closer. That little display of casual strength set a flurry of emotions loose in Ryan’s chest. He wanted to challenge it just to see how powerful Shane really was, but he also wanted to growl and show Shane his place by flipping him on his back and biting that goddamn Adam’s apple. 

“Shane?” Ryan’s voice wobbled.

Shane’s eyes cleared a little, but his grip didn’t loosen. “Y-yeah?”

Ryan swallowed. “Are you okay?” When Shane’s face when from blank from confused, Ryan bit his lip. “I’m pretty sure you’re in rut, bud.”

Shane’s eyes bulged. “No. No fucking way, Ryan. It’s months from now!”

“Well, it certainly smells like you are,” Ryan huffed, rubbing at his nose. It was getting stronger. 

“But—how? Getting sick and being lethargic are, like, the opposite of what usually happens to me.” 

A tiny alarm bell went off in Ryan’s head. Atypical symptoms followed by a very early rut? Right after Shane had been over for Ryan’s heat? Ryan couldn’t shake the inkling that it wasn't a coincidence. 

Unprompted, Shane’s scent spiked, and Ryan’s stomach rolled even as his skin caught fire. Shane panted, and Ryan could feel the heat pulsing off the Alpha. Some fever, Ryan’s hindbrain chuckled. Ryan could smell sweat tinging the air, suddenly feeling like he was slowly drowning. Shane looked up at him with burning eyes, intense and borderline feral, and the Omega's blood went both cold and hot. Shane was still gripping his ankle. 

Shane huffed before swallowing harshly. “Ryan, you need to go. Now.” 

A bout of déja vu hit Ryan so hard that he very nearly laughed despite the heft of the situation at hand. He didn’t want to go even though he definitely should, and seeing Shane, his friend, on the edge of rut—a truly exhausting and draining ordeal—made him want to stay all the more. He wanted to help, dammit! Like heat, going through rut without a consenting, conscious partner was mind-numbingly difficult. After doing it himself multiple times, Ryan wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemies, let alone his best buddy. Watching Shane lean back into the couch cushions and pant sent Ryan’s Queen instincts into a frenzy. _Help. Care. Help. Care. HelpcarehelpcarehelpcareFUCKHIM_. Ryan’s mouth twitched. But the tiny alarm bell in his head made him hesitate about insisting on staying. Besides, what would ‘staying’ really entail? Ryan knew the answer to that little nugget, but gods forbid he ever admit it. 

Jostling Ryan, Shane suddenly sat up and glared at him. “Ryan, go! Now!” The growl was too loud and too deep to be a suggestion. The light from the lamp caught the sharpened edges of Shane’s fangs, and Ryan had to fight his urge to run. To run would trigger chase, and that would end in a million different, horrible ways. Slowly, he got up from the couch and walked backwards into the kitchen. He grabbed his jacket and keys, faced the door, and paused. 

“Shane, if you need anything, call me.”

Shane answered with a low rumble. 

Right before Ryan opened the door, a wet whisper came from the room, so soft that Ryan doubted he really even heard it. 

“Stay?”

Ryan shut the door behind him. It was a little too fast. 

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not as long, but this felt like a natural place to end into before the next series of events, so don's fret! Thanks for reading--please let me know of any edits or questions, and, of course, leave love! 
> 
> Mean comments will be used for blackmail >:)
> 
> *sips chai tea* Toodles!


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